


Mask of the Red Death

by Starling_Sinclair



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon, Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, CYOA, Choose Your Own Adventure, Edgar Allen Poe, Ghosts, Masque of the Red Death, Mystery, Paranormal Mystery, This involves choices, Victorian, gothic horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:20:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27952223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starling_Sinclair/pseuds/Starling_Sinclair
Summary: PLEASE READ THESE NOTES:Hi y'all! This is a Choose Your Own Adventure style story. There are multiple endings and pathways. Because of this style, please make sure that the creator skin option is turned on. This will allow the story to be "played" without spoiling anything for other paths.I'm am currently uploading chapters. You may wish to wait until all chapters are uploaded to read. Actually, please wait so all the hyperlinks work. But do enjoy the magnificent artwork my Commander Cosmic while you do.Additional notes are at the end. Please enjoy!
Comments: 9
Kudos: 6
Collections: Senshi & Shitennou Mini Bang 2020





	Mask of the Red Death

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ THESE NOTES:
> 
> Hi y'all! This is a Choose Your Own Adventure style story. There are multiple endings and pathways. Because of this style, please make sure that the creator skin option is turned on. This will allow the story to be "played" without spoiling anything for other paths.
> 
> I'm am currently uploading chapters. You may wish to wait until all chapters are uploaded to read. Actually, please wait so all the hyperlinks work. But do enjoy the magnificent artwork my Commander Cosmic while you do.
> 
> Additional notes are at the end. Please enjoy!

Ready to Begin?  


Prologue

You approach the Silverhearts’ manor in both fear and awe. Your coach pauses at the giant wrought-iron gate emblazoned with a silvery crescent moon amongst a tessellation of stars. Analyzing the mastery of architecture, you wonder if the varying caricatures along the bottom are representations of the constellations. The footman pushes the gate open and returns to the carriage, giving you little time to ponder. Soon, you pass beneath the guardhouse and onto the estate.  


The gravel crunches beneath the carriage as the magnitude of the manor hits you. It is more like a fairy tale castle than a house with creeping ivy growing between the surprisingly white stones. Well, Silver Millennium, the manor’s nickname, is more fitting for a palace than a mansion. It is at least three stories tall, though spiraling towers grow yet higher, and the building is the length of an entire market street. How is it possible only a single-family dwells here?  


You come from a modest family of scholars in Oxford, and through the university, you’ve met nobles before, though the magnitude of their wealth had eclipsed you until this moment. The grand Oxford homes must be mere apartments compared to the opulence such as this. While your home was enough for your family of three and a housekeeper, you’d never considered your home to be small. Until now.  


Your coach stops; disembarkation is inevitable. Swallowing deeply, you collect yourself. This is an excellent opportunity for someone like you. All you need to do is tutor a handful of children, then you can conduct your own research as you pleased. You’ll make a modest salary without the pressures of marriage or the bigotry of academia. It is the best you can hope for. Perhaps, someday, if you do everything right, you can procure independent funding for your studies without the tutoring aspect.  


A woman dressed in a simple slate dress stands at the door, her curly black hair tumbling down past her shoulders, save for four small buns that kept her locks from her face. She smiles endearingly as you exit the coach. This must be the misses of the house. Beside her waits a short bespectacled man dressed in a slate uniform.  


“Fetch her steamer and deliver it to her rooms while I show her around,” she informs the footman beside her. He rushes forward to help the coachman with her trunk.

Talk to the woman.  
Talk to the footman.

Talk to the Footman

“Let me help,” you offer.  


“No, no, ma’am,” he says with a wave. “I’ve got this. It’s my job. I don’t mind at all. Besides, Mrs. Moon will not be happy if I allow you to carry your bags.”  


You chew your lip. You are familiar with having help, yet, this feels entirely more than you are entitled to. “Thank you...” you trail off, hoping he’ll supply you with a name.  


“Melvin.” With a push of glasses back into place, He takes your steamer trunk up the steps with surprising ease.

Talk to the women

  


Talk to the Woman

You walk towards the entrance. The woman extends her hand. “Welcome, Ms. Anderson. I’m Mrs. Moon, but you may call me Louisa. I am the housekeeper for the Sliverhearts, so should you have any issues, you may come to me.”  


“Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. Moon. I look forward to working with you in the future.”  


This answer seems to pass muster as she smiles with such authenticity. “Well, come in, come in, let’s not linger in doorways.”  
You feel as if you’ve stepped into a room that could only exist in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. Above you is a dome-shaped window, which scatters sparkling light onto the elaborate mosaic embellishing the floor. White marble depicts the phases of the moon against black mica speckled titles in the circular room. Corinthian columns mark the doorways into three different rooms, and elaborate frescos are on the walls. At a cursory glance, it appears to be related to the constellation myths as well.  
“Follow me, darling, and do try to keep up,” Mrs. Moon says with a wave of her hand.

Follow Mrs. Moon.  
Don’t Follow Mrs. Moon

Follow Mrs. Moon

You head to the west and enter the ballroom. Somehow, you thought it would be bigger. It is a long narrow room with an amber floor and gold accents everywhere. The russet curtains are pulled back, letting the sunshine in, which reflects off the gigantic mirror that takes up the majority of the interior wall. Benches and chairs sit tucked away, awaiting their moment to provide rest during the next Silverheart gala. You try to catch the celestial motif of this room, but you’re moving too quickly. Before you know it, you’re in the kitchens.  


Well, the final prepping area of the kitchens. There is a stairway leading down into the basement where you assume the cellar, ladder, and larger ovens are. However, a tall and stately woman commands the flow of staff coming up and down the stairs like an admiral guiding her fleet. Her auburn hair is tied into a curly tail, showing off surprisingly lavish enamel earrings. Her sleeves are rolled up to her elbows, and her apron is pristine white. She clearly means business.  


“Make sure there are two pigs roasting for tonight,” the chef hollers at a passing servant.  


Mrs. Moon politely clears her throat, and the chef turns to you. “Ms. Anderson, this is Ms. Oak. She is our top chef and head of the kitchens. Should you be in need of anything food-related during your residence here, please feel free to ask her.”  


“Yes, I don’t like people poking around my kitchens unattended. I keep a tight ship here,” Ms. Oak says with a kind smile. “I usually leave something small out on the table at night, but feel free to knock on my door if you have a specific request. I would love to chit-chat more, Ms. Anderson, but I’m in the middle of preparations for tonight’s Harvest Soiree. Is there anything you need assistance with right now?”

”Not right now, thank you very much.”  
”If you don’t mind…”

< “Not right now, thank you very much.”>  
< “If you don’t mind...”>

“If you don’t mind...”

“If you don’t mind, I am famished from my travels.”  


Ms. Oak smiles, but it seems a little terse. She points towards the breakfast room. Mrs. Moon escorts you.  


You sit in awkward silence until someone brings out a tea tray with some fresh tea and sandwiches. Mrs. Moon seems impatient with your choice, so you quickly finish and resume your tour.

Resume Your Tour.

“Not right now. Thank you very much.”

Ms. Oak is pleased with this response. “I promise tomorrow I will prepare you a proper welcome meal.”  


You blush, hoping that perhaps you’ll find a kindred spirit among this woman. It would be nice to have someone to talk to on occasion during your stay.  


“Ah yes, we’ll leave you to your preparations, Ms. Oak,” Mrs. Moon says before walking toward a small staircase just outside the kitchens.

Resume Your Tour.

Resume Your Tour

Following Mrs. Moon, you head up to the bedroom floor. This is where you’ll be living. As a tutor, you have been afforded a nicer room than some of the other staff. Of course, as soon you climb the stairs you are startled by four young girls running around. A haggard-looking nanny chases after them.  


“Ah yes, that Ms. Hornora,” Mrs. Moon explains. “She cares for the Lady’s nieces. I’m sure she’ll be grateful for the extra tutelage.”  


You smile nervously. You don’t have much experience with young children, but you’re determined. They can’t be that difficult, right?  


“Ahem.” Someone through the doorway to your left clears their throat. You turn to see a striking woman lingering against the frame. She is beautiful in a way you thought only existed in paintings. Her long black hair nearly touches the floor. Perhaps it would, if it weren’t for the twin buns atop her head. Her dress is finer than anything you’ve ever seen before in your life, and you realize that this must be Nehelenia Silverheart, Serenity’s spinster sister.  


“Mrs. Moon, I have been looking for you.”  


Mrs. Moon drops into a short curtsy. “My Lady.” You are quite unsure what the protocol here is.  


Her cold, icy eyes snap from Mrs. Moon to the children clamming down the hallway.  


“Girls,” the mother coos. “Please behave. Mommy has a headache and I still have to finalize the guest list for tonight.”  


Ah yes, that would make sense. With no male heir to the fortune, Serenity Silverheart had taken in caring for the family business, leaving her sister in charge of what would normally be wifely duties - the management of social events. You swallow in realization just how vastly different this world is from the one you’re used to.  


The girls immediately straighten, as if they are afraid of their mother. Ms. Hornora guides them back into what you can only assume is the nursery.  


“Please excuse me, Ms. Anderson. Your room is just up ahead. Settle in and I will continue the tour once I’ve finished,” Mrs. Moon tells you, pointing her finger down the hallway. She doesn’t dally any longer, and the two women disappear into an imposing bedroom.  


You swallow, unsure which door Mrs. Moon was pointing at.

Try the room to the right  
Try the room to the left.

Try the room to the left.

You open the door to a lavish bedroom and standing in the middle of it is a blond man ruffling through some papers at a desk. He is well dressed, though, he lacks his coat. The comfortability suggests familiarity with the occupant of the room. Based on the very feminie decor of lace and ribbon, you deduce this is not his room.  


“Minnie, did you bring the letters...” he says as he looks up, trailing off when he sees you. “You’re not Minnie.”  


Given the causality in his greeting of the other young lady in the Silverheart family and the ease of which he navigates the room, you assume he must be Jasper Silverheart, Minnie’s brother. He glances around like a scared deer.  


“Also, this isn’t what it looks like.”  


You blink. It looks like a nosy brother rifling through his sister’s belongings. However, it is not your place to speak on such issues. Looking down, you say, “Please beg my pardon, sir. I was just trying to find my room. I believe I picked the wrong door.”  


A large grin spreads over Mr. Silverheart’s face. “Oh! You must be the new tutor! Then you can help me!”

Agree to Help.  
Decline.

Try the room to the right.

The door is locked. There is another door beside it.

Try second room to the right.  
Try the room to the left.

Try the second room to the right.

You open the door to a plain bedroom. There is a simple bed and desk. Your steamer trunk is in the center of the room. Breathing a sigh of relief at finding your new home, you lie down on the bed to rest.

(Chapter 1: BLUE) Back to the prologue

Agree to help.

A simple act of kindness isn’t too much to ask. “How can I be of service?”  


“There is this woman I’m trying to...” he flounders for the word, “romance. I am not very good at words as you can see.”  


You chew the inside of your lip. It’s clear that he will be in need of your services. Romancing a woman is a poor choice of words for someone of his status. This, of course, is a direct result of society pushing the importance of maths over languages to males of the species when it is languages that bring people together, but that is beside the point.  


“So you are doing this by a letter I suppose?” you venture.  


He grins in response, though it is more of a grimace. “Yes?”  


Taking a deep breath, you compose yourself. Love languages may not be your forte, but you are apt at all the romance languages. Surely you can help this poor fool compose a love letter.  


You walk over to the desk. “What have you written so far?”  


He scratches the back of his head as you look at the words on the paper. My dear Ruby…  


“Is that all?” you blurt out. He smiles sheepishly.  


You pinch the bridge of your nose with a sigh. Oh dear lord, grant you grace. This boy is clearly in need of your tutoring. With skills like these, he will never acquire an acceptable wife. Though, you suspect the receiver of this note might not be marriage material.  


“What do you hope to achieve? It is… difficult to ascertain with so little to work with.”  


Lord Silverheart sighs before slumping into the chair beside the desk. “She believes me to be an idiot, and I had hoped to convince her otherwise.”  
Well, she is not wrong, though, you do not voice that opinion.  


“Tell me more about her,” you prompt.  


He gets a dreamy look on his face before continuing. “Oh she is a mystery! Brilliant, and exotic… she has a way of reading people that’s unnerving. As if she undresses your soul.”  


With his description, and the afore written name, a fitting piece enters your mind. Taking a new piece of paper, you meticulous write out Percy Shelly’s “Love’s Philosophy” onto the blank sheet as he talks. He reads over your shoulder as you write it and gasps appreciatively in the appropriate places.  


“Did you compose that yourself?” he inquires.  


“Of course not,” you retort. “And you shall not claim to have either.”  


Folding the paper into a trifold, you pen My Dearest Ruby, this poem invokes only thoughts of you. You hand the paper to Lord Silverheart.  


“Thank you so much,” he says, quite sincerely. “How shall I ever repay you?”  


“Well, I suppose you can pay attention to the future lessons I shall construct for you, with a focus on the masters of contemporary romance,” you answer with a smile.  


“I have a better idea,” he continues. “Come to the soiree with me tonight.”  


Pursing your lips, you consider declining, but suspect that he will not accept such a rejection. So you settle for a non-answer. “I do need to find my room first.”  


“Oh right!” He stands and shows you to the door. He walks directly across the hallway to the door opposite of Minnie Silverheart’s. He turns the knob revealing a plain bedroom. There is a simple bed and desk. Your steamer trunk is in the center of the room. “Here you are. I’ll see you in a bit then?”  


You nod kindly as he closes the door behind you. Breathing a sigh of relief at finding your new home, you lie down on the bed to rest.

(Chapter 1: PINK) Back to the prologue

Decline to help.

“I’m really very sorry, but I must find my room,” you explain.  


He jumps to his feet, his face the epitome of pleaing. “Oh please. I have been working on this letter for nearly two hours. There is this woman I’m trying to...” he flounders for the word, “romance. I am not very good at words as you can see.”  


You chew the inside of your lip. It’s clear that he is in need of your services. Romancing a woman is a poor choice of words for someone of his status. This, of course, is a direct result of society pushing the importance of maths over languages to males of the species when it’s languages that bring people together, but that is beside the point.  


Taking a deep breath, you compose yourself. Love languages may not be your forte, but you are apt at all the romance languages. Surely you can help this poor fool compose a love letter.  


“What have you written so far?” You walk towards the writing desk, expecting to see pages of crumpled paper, rejected attempts scattered about. Yet, there is only one single sheet resting in the center of the writing desk.  


He scratches the back of his head as you look at the words on the paper. My dear Ruby…  


“Is that all?” you blurt out. He smiles sheepishly.  


You pinch the bridge of your nose with a sigh. Oh dear lord, grant you grace. This boy is clearly in need of tutoring.  


“You are not giving me much to work with are you? What are you trying to achieve?”  


Lord Silverheart sighs before slumping into the chair beside the desk. “She believes me to be an idiot, and I had hoped to convince her otherwise.”  


Well, she is not wrong, though, you do not voice that opinion. Rolling your eyes, you settle on the first poem that pops into your head. Taking a new piece of paper, you meticulous write out Percy Shelly’s “Love’s Philosophy” onto the blank sheet. He reads over your shoulder as you write it and gasps appreciatively in the appropriate places.  


“Did you compose that yourself?” he inquires.  


“Of course not,” you retort. “And you shall not claim to have either.”  


Folding the paper into a trifold, you pen My Dearest Ruby, this poem invokes only thoughts of you. You hand the paper to Lord Silverheart.  


“Thank you so much,” he says, quite sincerely. “How shall I ever repay you?”  


“Think nothing of it,” you answer with a worn look. Hopefully, your poetic suggestion won’t get him into too much trouble.  


“I have a better idea,” he continues. “Come to the soiree with me tonight.”  


Pursing your lips, you consider declining, but suspect much like your agreement to help you have little say in the issue.  


“I do need to find my room first,” you answer.  


“Oh right!” He stands before moving with you to the exit. Once outside of Minnie Silverheart’s room, he walks directly across to the door opposite. He turns the knob revealing a plain bedroom. There is a simple bed and desk. Your steamer trunk is in the center of the room. “Here you are. I’ll see you in a bit then?”  


You nod kindly as he closes the door behind you. Breathing a sigh of relief at finding your new home, you lie down on the bed to rest.

(Chapter 1: PINK) Back to the prologue

Don’t Follow Mrs. Moon

You are lost in the frescos. They must be constellation myths because Gadymede is pouring some sort of sparkling stone from the painting down into the mosaic on the floor. You place your hand on the column, feeling the cool stone, admiring the craftsmanship, and you realize that you no longer hear Mrs. Moon.  


Looking around, you are alone in the vestibule. Well, Mrs. Moon will notice your absence soon enough. Best not to stray too far, so you step into the room in front of you.  


A chandelier with crystals that drip like stardust hangs over an antique grand piano. It is smooth and black and you can almost hear a haunting melody echoing from it, like synaesthesia. You place your hand on it, as your eyes wander around the room. Long draping red curtains frame windows and flaxen camelback sofa. You’re fairly certain that you are standing on a real Persian rug.  


You can see down the empty corridors and realize that this music room would carry through the whole floor if someone were playing. Slowly, you walk to the other side of the room where a golden harp rests. Your fingers itch to pluck it though you’ve never touched one in person. Some music lessons were afforded you growing up, but harps and pianos were entirely too expensive to actually own. To see them sitting around, collecting dust, nearly breaks your heart.

Touch the piano.  
Touch the harp.

Touch the Piano

Your fingers softly touch the ivory keys and an A minor note fills the air. In a trance-like state, you can almost see the mirage of someone sitting on the bench - a man with long blonde hair wearing a red mask. He looks right at you, surprised.  


“Hello?” another voice calls.  


You blink and the man is gone.

Turn toward the voice.

Touch the Harp

\  
Your finger plucks a single string. It’s out of tune. You cringe at the sound. No one has played this instrument in years. A whisper in your gut tells you to tune it and to play it again, though you’ve never played harp.

Hello?

Hello?

You turn around, startled, clutching your hand to your chest. A young woman, only a handful of years younger than you, smiles. She’s petite in a light pink dress embroidered with golden circles at the bodies. Her long blonde hair is done up in two very strange buns atop her head, and she carries a casualness that you’re not used.  


“I’m sorry. You looked a little lost, and I was worried the ghosts might get you,” the girl teases.  


“I beg your pardon. I seemed to have gotten lost in the beauty of your home,” you say. “I thought I’d wait here until Mrs. Moon found me again.”  


“Oh! You must be Amy!” The girl immediately loops her arm through yours. “I’m so excited to have you. I’m Serena.”  


You blink. This is Serena Silverheart, heir to the Silverheart fortunes, only daughter to Serenity Silverheart. And she is not at all what you expected from a rich heiress.  


“I’m looking forward to lessons,” Serena continues, “though, I will admit I am a terrible student. Though you must have interesting stories from Oxford. You can tell me and my cousin all about the latest fashion trends!”  


You smile as the girl ambles at you, her mirth overflowing, and she guides you through a dining room. A china cabinet carefully packed to display bone china takes up the entire eastern wall. A large banquet table graces the center of the room, but all the chairs have been removed. You find this odd, though try not to dwell on it. Instead, your eyes glance around noting that this room too contains a constellation myth. The frescos depict the story of Amathea raising Zues, and the magical cornucopia bears fruit and vegetables across a starry sky on the ceiling that spills into two crystal chandeliers. There must be some sort of mineral in the stars, for they glimmer in the sunlight.  


The light spills into the room like melted butter. You smile as it warms your skin. Through the large windows on the north wall, you can see the gardens. Another blonde woman with a red hat chats with a tall pale man unchaperoned. She places a hand flirtatiously on his elbow.

Make mention of this to Serena.  
It’s not your place.

Make Mention to Serena

“Um, my Lady,” you start pointing towards the window. “Do you know who is in the gardens? I do not see a chaperone...”  


“None of this ‘my lady’ formalities, call me Serena,” the Lady corrects as she moves towards the window. She gasps before grabbing your hand and dragging you quickly through the dining room and through the conservatory, alarming the young man with peculiarly long hair reading in the process.  


It is not a quick journey to the couple in the gardens, and you wonder if perhaps you should not have said anything at all. Gravel crunches under your boots as you head down a path of rose hedges, dying in the chilling autumn air. Still, Serena drags you along, and the couple sees you because you are not being particularly sneaky.  


“Minnie!” Serena hails. “Lord Mikhail! What brings you out here on such a fine day?”  


You realize the subtlety is clearly not Serena’s strong point, and that the blonde woman in the red bonnet is Serena’s cousin, Minnie Silverheart. The two women do bear a striking resemblance to each other, more like sisters than cousins. Serena’s hair is just ever so slightly paler than the golden color of Minnie. Both women’s eyes sparkle with mischief though.  


“Cousin! What are you doing here?” Minnie smiles broadly, as if she is doing nothing improper what-so-ever. You feel very uncomfortable with the whole situation.  


The tall man looks just as uncomfortable with you. “Ah, Lady Silverheart. I assure you we were just discussing details of the event tonight to ensure that the goods I delivered were what were required.”  


“Yes!” Minnine jumps in on the explanation. “He brought curtains!”  


All heads turned toward the blonde in confusion.  


“Because he’s a textile?” she offers. “Someone who sells goods?”  


You blink, trying to deduce her meaning. It slowly dawns on you. “Do you mean mercantile?”  


“Yes,” the man answers, pinching the bridge of his nose.  


Serena rolls her eyes. “Right. The goods.”  


The gentleman blushes. He is a tall man with a darker complexion than you usually see in the countryside. He wears a fine grey suit and hat with a pink ribbon. Most strikingly, his hair is white, which you suspect is also very long though hidden beneath his hat.  


“Well, Lord Mikhail, I am in need of some goods as well,” Serena insinuates. “Something that needs escorting from the Evermore estate.”  
You do your best to school your reaction. The Evermore’s are a rival estate and the only other major mining family in the region. You worry that perhaps they are discussing some sort of espionage.  


“Indeed. I believe that the delivery is already set for 8:30? After everyone has been served and conversations are just beginning and no one will notice we’re missing. Isn’t that right Kingston?” Minnie explains.  


Lord Mikhail seems uncomfortable discussing any of this in front of you, but answers, “Yes. I will personally be escorting them.”  


“Excellent,” Serena says with the smile of the cat who caught the canary. “This Harvest Soiree will be the greatest yet!”  


Serena turns to you, her eyes glistening with excitement. “You will come to the party tonight, right?”

”I suppose…”  
”I’m not really sure…”

<”I suppose…”>  
<”I’m not really sure…”>

“I suppose…”

Serena’s eyes light up. “Great! Oh! I should get you to your room so that you can rest and prepare! I’ll see you two later.” With a polite curtsy, the two of you head back to the manor.  


Together you head back in through the conservatory. The man you passed is gone as you move quickly through the plants and books. You brush through a smaller breakfast room and through a bustling kitchen. Serena steals two petit four from a tray while the chef isn’t looking then hands one to you as you climb the stairs to the bedroom floor.  


The blonde noble hums happily as she eats her pastry, a bright light in the dark and quiet hallway. This is where you’ll be living. As a tutor, you have been afforded a nicer room than some of the other staff.  


Stopping two rooms to the right, Serena chirps, “You’re room is right next to mine!”  
You open the door to a plain bedroom. There is a simple bed and desk. Your steamer trunk is in the center of the room. Breathing a sigh of relief at finding your new home, you walk over to your belongings.  


“My my, we will need to liven this room up won’t we?” Serena comments looking in. “Well, I’ll leave you to get ready! I’ll see you later tonight!” She’s practically shining with excitement as she closes the door.  


You flop on your bed wondering just what you’ve gotten yourself into.

(Chapter 1: RED) Back to the prologue

“I’m not really sure…”

Serena looks crestfallen. “Perhaps after you rest, you’ll reconsider. I do have something rather exciting planned for tonight.” With a polite cutesy, she bids farewell to her cousin and the Lord in the garden.  


Together you head back in through the conservatory. The man you passed is gone as you move quickly through the plants and books. You brush through a smaller breakfast room and through a bustling kitchen. Serena steals two petit four from a tray while the chef isn’t looking then hands one to you as you climb the stairs to the bedroom floor.  


The blonde nobel hums happily as she eats her pastry, a bright light in the dark and quiet hallway. This is where you’ll be living. As a tutor, you have been afforded a nicer room than some of the other staff.  


Stopping two rooms to the right, Serena chirps, “You’re room is right next to mine!”  


You open the door to a plain bedroom. There is a simple bed and desk. Your steamer trunk is in the center of the room. Breathing a sigh of relief at finding your new home, you walk over to your belongings.

(Chapter 1: BLUE) Back to the prologue

It’s Not Your Place.

Moving into the next room you see a man sitting on a wicker lounge reading a book. He wears a shining green waistcoat, and his unusually long, brown hair is neatly tied back. Glancing up, he quirks an eyebrow in greeting.  


“Nathan! Oh good, you’re here,” Serena greets. Grabbing your arm, she pulls you in front of her. “This is Amy! The new literature tutor! Amy, this is our science and maths tutor.”  


You nod your head in greet. “Hello Mister...”  


“Maxfield,” he supplies as he stands. He offers his hand out.  


“Ms. Anderson.”  


“Ah yes. Some of my associates in Oxford tell me you are quite the scholar,” he says.  


You blink in surprise. It is rare your reputation proceeds you. “Oh, well, I hope I live up to expectations. I look forward to working with you.”  


“Are you attending the Soiree tonight?”  


You furrow your brow, unsure of what he is talking about.  


Serena gasps. “Yes! Tonight is my family’s Harvest Soiree. It will be the talk of the season, at least until our Halloween masquerade.”  


“I beg your pardon, but I didn’t think the Silverhearts were known for their crops,” you say.  


Mr. Maxfield laughs. “No, they are not. Don’t let the title fool you, my dear. This is nothing more than a chance for them to show off to the other gentry.”  


Serena sticks her tongue out at him. “Don’t listen to him. He’s never any fun. So, would you like to attend it with me?”

”Umm…”  
”I suppose…”

<”Umm…”>  
<”I suppose…”>

“Umm…”

“I’m sure the lady is tired, Serena,” Mr. Maxfield interjects. “Perhaps she’d rather join me for a simple dinner away from the bustle? We could discuss lesson plans.”  


Serena literally rolls her eyes at this.  


“Actually, a quiet dinner sounds lovely. I’d appreciate getting acquainted with what to expect for tutoring everyone,” you say, grateful to have someone that seems to understand. Plus, you have a reputation to live up to.  


“Well, I suppose if you are tired, then I best get you to your room,” Serena says.  


With a polite nod to Mr. Maxfield, you follow the Lady through a smaller breakfast room and a bustling kitchen. Given the amount of cooks and servents moving tray of delicacies about you begin to grasp that this soiree will be enormous. You’re grateful that you’ll be enjoying a nice quite dinner with a fellow scholar.  


Together you continue up a spiraling staircase, which empties before a ornate doorway. The woodworking around the door is reminiscent of the mythology you’ve noticed around the house. Within the vines and game animals you see a couple, bows drawn, hunting deer. Behind them lurks a scorpion, the woodwork of the creature so dark and shiny you almost think for a minute it is a real animal.  


The door swings open, and Mrs. Moon steps out. She startles as she see you and Serena, placing her hand over her heart.  


“Oh, Serena and Ms. Anderson, you gave me a fright,” the older woman starts. “I am sorry we separated. Lady Nehelenia needed my assistance.” She gestures to door.  


“No worries, Luna. I found our new tutor and was giving her a grand tour!” Serena loops her arm through yours. “Besides, we all know Aunt Nelly can be demanding.”  


Mrs. Moon smiles warmly. “Well, I best be getting back to my duties. I shall see you ladies later.”  


You say goodbye as the misses before the heiress drags you down the hall.  


Stopping two rooms to the right, Serena chirps, “You’re room is right next to mine!”  


You open the door to a plain bedroom. There is a simple bed and desk. Your steamer trunk is in the center of the room. Breathing a sigh of relief at finding your new home, you walk over to your belongings.  


“Oh, man, this place could use some evening up,” Serena comments looking in. “Well, I’ll leave you to rest. Though, if you change your mind, feel free to find me."  


Serena shuts the door and you the solitude surrounds you. With a sigh, you lie down on your bed deciding it’s the best time to rest before Mr. Maxfield arrives with dinner.

(Chapter 1: YELLOW) Back to the prologue

“I suppose…”

Serena’s eyes light up. “Great! Oh! I should get you to your room so that you can rest and prepare!" She grabs your wrist and you manage a polite wave to Mr. Maxfield as you are dragged out of the conservatory.  


You follow the Lady through a smaller breakfast room and a bustling kitchen. Given the number of cooks and servants moving the tray of delicacies about you begin to grasp that this soiree will be enormous. You begin to wonder just what you’ve gotten yourself into.  


Together you continue up a spiraling staircase, which empties before a ornate doorway. The woodworking around the door is reminiscent of the mythology you’ve noticed around the house. Within the vines and game animals you see a couple, bows drawn, hunting deer. Behind them lurks a scorpion, the woodwork of the creature so dark and shiny you almost think for a minute it is a real animal.  


The door swings open, and Mrs. Moon steps out. She startles as she see you and Serena, placing her hand over her heart.  


“Oh, Serena and Ms. Anderson, you gave me a fright,” the older woman starts. “I am sorry we separated. Lady Nehelenia needed my assistance.” She gestures to door.  


“No worries, Luna. I found our new tutor and was giving her a grand tour!” Serena loops her arm through yours. “Besides, we all know Aunt Nelly can be demanding.”  


Mrs. Moom smiles warmly. “Well, I best be getting back to my duties. I shall see you ladies later.”  


You say goodbye as the misses before the heiress drags you down the hall.  


Stopping two rooms to the right, Serena chirps, “You’re room is right next to mine!”  


You open the door to a plain bedroom. There is a simple bed and desk. Your steamer trunk is in the center of the room. Breathing a sigh of relief at finding your new home, you walk over to your belongings.  


“Oh, man, this place could use some evening up,” Serena comments looking in. “Well, I’ll leave you to get ready! I’ll see you later tonight!” She’s practically shining with excitement as she closes the door.  


You flop on your bed wondering just what you’ve gotten yourself into.

(Chapter 1: RED) Back to the prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This fic wouldn't be possible without a host of help. A big shoutout to my Bang partner, Commander Cosmic, and the beautiful piece she's made for this story. Everyone who enjoyed the play through should offer a virtual drink to my husband, who created the skin and has coded all these options for me. It was a task, and he rose to the challenge. This also wouldn't be possible without the help of my betas: ElvisVF101 and nelwynprincess. I also want to thank the SSBang mods, Charlie and Flor, because this is all your fault, you wonderful, beautiful masterminds. And finally, thanks to all my fellow bang writers who cheered me on and helped me figure out pathways while creating this fic - VenusUnchained, FadesintheSun, TeamVanessaCloud, Adrianna Sharp, Lyria, and Vchanny! This is my favorite corner of the internet because of y'all.


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